Nine Lives
by Lelek
Summary: Eight lives where they get it wrong, and finally one where they get it right. AkuRoku
1. Life 2: The Unhappy Ending

Notes: This fic started some time ago as a vaguely philosophical concept, inspired by (of all things) some dialogue in Genji Monogatari, and proceeded to be stuck in the planning stages for way too long. It's pretty much exactly what the summary says - nine next-lives, eight of which go wrong and then one that goes right. Some are short snap-shots, some aren't, some are inspired by songs, some aren't, and ultimately Axel and Roxas will get their happy ending. Even if it takes a while for them to get there.

As a side note, James Bond does, in fact, drive Aston Martins (in, like, eight films). I didn't make that up.

Disclaimer: Will an Oathkeeper and Oblivion tattoo count as a step towards franchise ownership? Yeah, I thought not. The lyrics are from, as indicated by the chapter title, "Life 2: The Unhappy Ending" by Stars. The song, if you check it out, directly influenced the plot.

**I. Life 2: The Unhappy Ending**

_Scene one: late at night interior_

_We find ourselves inside the car_

_Our hero has just gone too far_

_His lover bleeding in the back_

_He removes the lucky from the pack_

_He knows now that he can't turn back_

"Axel, what the fuck are we doing?" Roxas' voice, quiet and strained with pain, and maybe a bit with resignation, was almost lost in the revving of the car engine as Axel hit the accelerator.

"Finding somewhere safe." It was probably hopeless, and they both knew it, but Axel tried to be reassuring and confident anyway, because it was all his fault and Roxas deserved so much better than bleeding to death in the back seat of an old Alfa Romeo.

They seemed to have had the same thought (and hadn't Axel always been told that lovers started thinking alike after long enough?) because Roxas chuckled lowly. "Never thought I'd die in a fucking Alfa Romeo. It's not even a _nice_ Alfa Romeo. Told you we should've found an Aston Martin - would've been like James Bond."

Axel chuckled, too, roughly, as he fished a crumpled pack of Parliaments out of his coat pocket. He didn't smoke very often and the same four that had been there for a week and half were still waiting to be lit. He risked a glance down for a few seconds, considered, and pulled out the lucky.

He doubted he'd have time to get around to smoking the rest, anyway.

The flash of police lights and the renewed wail of a siren behind them triggered another low, dry laugh from Roxas. It was cut off quickly by a sharp gasp and a too-wet cough. Axel scowled at nothing at all and knew, with a cold, clear certainty, that it was over. There was no way out. It didn't matter where they went, or how fast they went there - the police would catch up and he'd go to prison and none of it would matter because Roxas would be dead.

"Hey, babe," he called out with a lightness he didn't feel, hiding the sudden chill behind the curve of a slow, sly smile, "how do you feel about having some fun?"

_Forever young, love, how about it?_

"Why the hell not?" The smirk was written in Roxas' voice, even though Axel couldn't see his face, and it both did and did not make him feel better about the impending end of his world.

"I was hoping you'd say that." And he spun the wheel sharply, cutting across two empty lanes to take the exit from an angle that would have been deadly had he been a nervous driver.

"How fast are we going?" There was some revived life and interest in Roxas' voice, some of the resignation gone, and it made Axel smile more genuinely in turn.

"Ninety-one." He tapped his cigarette against the edge of the open window and smirked. He'd always loved fast cars. Fast cars and clear skies and open stretches of road in the early hours of the morning. It was where they'd begun. Fitting that it also would be where they ended.

"I know this car can do better than that." It was a challenge as much as a request. Roxas knew he wasn't going to survive the night, knew too that it was quite possible Axel would be following close behind - this was it for them. This was their ending and they needed to make it count. Maybe even enough to make up for all their mistakes.

Axel laughed and shook his head. "We're not exactly on a speedway here, honey."

"Try anyway."

Anyone else, Axel would have brushed off because, really, there was only so much he could do on narrow, twisting back roads. But his passenger _wasn't_ anyone. He was Roxas, for whom Axel would have walked barefoot through hell, or gone out to collect the stars. Trying to drive faster in a stolen getaway car on backcountry roads in the middle of the night? That was nothing.

"Anything for you, sweetheart." He shifted the cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other in that way that Roxas had always said looked more awkward than badass. It was a habit, though, and habits were something solid for him to hold on to.

They took a turn a little harder than necessary and Roxas cursed fluently as he was jolted back against the cracked leather seat. Axel winced, but didn't bother apologising because that wasn't how things worked between them. An apology was worthless compared to getting away from the cops so they could have some peace before the end. It was true that they didn't have a Bond Aston Martin, but there was still time to make theirs an ending worthy of a film.

Everything had already gone to hell - there really wasn't much left to lose.

"I didn't think it would go down this way," Axel said quietly, honestly, flicking his cigarette out the window and turning down a tiny road through the woods.

"No use crying over it now," Roxas replied smartly. "We did what we did and I'm not sorry for any of it. I mean, come on, Ax, this sucks, but wasn't it awesome getting here?"

It was supposed to make him feel better. Wry, Roxas-style comfort. And Axel wanted to be comforted, wanted to be strong and okay with everything, but his burning eyes told against him and he had to blink a few times to keep his vision clear.

"What am I gonna do without you, Rox?"

There was a pause, a short silence that said more than all the words in the world ever could. Then, "Whatever you have to."

It was permission and forgiveness and a promise all wrapped up in four simple words, six sharp syllables. And Axel nodded, tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and floored it.

Roxas was dying, the police were gaining, and it was the end of the world.

All that was left to do was enjoy the rest of the ride.


	2. Spring of '44

Notes: The individual parts of this fic don't actually fit together in any sort of chronology. I point this out because _this_ part is very specific - it has an exact time and place - and in no way follows the events in part one. I said there'd be nine lives - I never said they'd be liner.

Also, just to reiterate, unhappiness abounds for eight-ninths of this fic. So, um, don't expect anything to end well for a while. They'll get it right eventually, I swear!

**II. Spring of '44**

_March 10th_

"You're doing _what_?"

Roxas crossed his arms stubbornly across his chest and held his ground in the face of Axel's shock and distress. "I just said it, Axel - I'm volunteering for another trip overseas. In case you hadn't noticed, there's still a war on and they need field medics. I can help."

"You're doing enough here on the home front," Axel shot back immediately, just as stubborn and twice as upset. "Don't act like you're sitting around being useless. We're both doing our part as it is."

Roxas shook his head. "It's not enough, Axel. I can't... I can't just sit by with the knowledge that I could be saving lives out there."

"Roxas, the last time you went, you didn't even really see combat. You've never held a gun." _You could die._

"You don't get it, Axel, _I need to go._" He frowned and his eyes compelled Axel to please just understand. "It's important."

"And we're not?" It was a low blow. Axel knew that. But he was already hurting and filled with dread for the grief he was sure was coming. "Eight years is a lot to just throw away like this, Roxas."

Roxas' eyes widened slightly and he bit into his lower lip sharply. "So, if I go we're finished? Just like that?"

And Axel just couldn't keep that up. His resolve crumbled and his shoulder slumped with defeat. "No. No, of course not. You know better than that, Rox."

"You think I'm going to die. You've already given up on me." His hands clenched and unclenched uselessly at his sides, but Axel couldn't quite get himself to close the distance between them and take Roxas' in his arms where he'd feel safe. They weren't safe. Maybe they never had been.

"No, I haven't." He shook his head. "I couldn't give up on you, Rox, not really."

Roxas sighed heavily and finally stepped closer to wrap his arms around Axel's waist and rest his forehead against his chest. "I'm sorry, Axel, I just... I have to do this."

Axel sighed, too, and hugged Roxas tightly, like the world was ending. "I know, Rox. I just wish you didn't."

_April 4th_

Roxas was unusually quiet at breakfast. Not that he was a mile-a-minute talker usually, but that morning he wasn't really talking at all and it was strange.

"What's going on, Rox?" Axel finally asked softly, setting down his cup of coffee. No sugar, there hadn't been sugar in awhile.

Roxas sighed and ran a hand back through his hair. "I got a letter yesterday. I'm... I leave on the tenth."

Axel went very still. It was a good thing he'd set the cup down already, or he would have dropped it and made a mess and they really couldn't afford to buy new cups. "I-I see."

"Yeah," Roxas said slowly, his hands compulsively clenching and unclenching like they had that night when he'd told Axel he'd volunteered to leave. "But things seem to be getting better, you know. I'm sure I'll be back before you even feel like I'm gone."

Axel tried to smile, but it was weak and sad and a little bit broken. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'll hardly have time to miss you."

Roxas' front teeth sank into his lower lip and then, in an instant, he was around their small dining room table and in Axel's lap, arms around his shoulders and fingers digging into his shirt. "I'm sorry," he murmured against Axel's neck, like a fractured litany. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Axel clutched at Roxas' shaking shoulders and buried his face in Roxas' hair and murmured back the only response there was, "I know, I know, I know."

_May 2nd_

Dear Axel,

You'll be glad to know that so far this has been pretty boring. I've done a lot of sitting around, some keeping a journal in case someone inexplicably wants to know what it was like for a volunteer field medic, and not much else. My record of not really seeing battle is holding strong!

I have to tell you that it won't last much longer, though. I don't want you to worry, Axel, please don't, but something big is coming up soon and I have a feeling I'm going to finally be sent out. But I'll be okay. I'll finally be doing what I've been trained for. And then I'll come home and the war will end and everything will be fine. All right? All right.

You better be taking care of Nami while I'm gone. The last thing my little sister needs is to be left all alone right now. Without me around, you're what she's got for family and I want to hear nothing but praise for how wonderful you were. And don't let my plants die, either. I worked hard to get that garden to sustain life, if you kill it I won't speak to you for at least a week. That's a promise.

And take care of yourself, too, Axel. Eat properly (well, at least do your best, I know how the food situation is) and sleep enough and don't smoke too much. I'm not there to take care of you if you get sick and we both know you can't even handle a head cold gracefully.

There are a lot of other things I want to write, but, well, you understand, right? You know it all already.

Yours,

Roxas

_May 21st_

Naminé looked very young and very fragile, sitting across from Axel in the sunny little corner diner where they were having weak coffee and mediocre cherry pie. It was hard to believe, taking in her pale face and big eyes, that she really was nineteen. She'd been just a little wisp of a kid when Axel had met her, back when he and Roxas were still new to each other and still figuring things out. She was the only one in the entire world who knew that there was more to them than good friends and roommates. She was also the only one who knew how much Axel was hurting with Roxas overseas.

The understanding in her eyes made him want to scream.

"He'll be fine," she said softly. "He has to be."

"Yeah," Axel replied faintly, dully, picking at his pie. "Definitely."

"And then," she continued, "when he _does_ get home, we'll make him stay home all the time, to make up for his being gone so long."

It was hard to be upset with her when she was trying so hard to make everything seem okay, so Axel managed to force a wan smile. "You'll back me up on that?"

"Of course." She smiled back and it felt like a punch in the stomach because her smile reminded him of Roxas.

_June 11th_

Axel knew there was something very wrong when Naminé came to his door, shaking and paler than usual and obviously fighting off tears. He knew what that expression meant; he'd seen it a dozen times before. But that was something that happened to _other people_, always to other people, and his mind refused to make the connections.

"A-Axel," she whispered hoarsely, holding out a crumpled letter printed on official-looking letterhead. "It's... he..."

Every inch of Axel's being cried out for him not to take the letter. If he didn't take it, if he didn't read it, it wouldn't be real and everything would still make sense in his world.

He took it anyway and hadn't even finished the first sentence before he sagged against the door and started to cry.

Only three words stood out. Only three words mattered.

_Killed in action._

-

End Note: If you're not a history person, 6 June 1944 was D-Day at Normandy. There were over 6,000 US casualties.


	3. Look Pale with Love

Notes: And then there was Shakespeare. Because there are a lot of one-shot AU fics I _could_ write to fit my concept, but I'm trying for ones that haven't been done quite so often. And, anyway, actor!Axel is a pretty awesome idea, even if he is cynical and jaded in this fic.

Disclaimer: _Much Ado About Nothing_ obviously isn't mine. It is, however, one of my favourite comedies and I once played Beatrice in a production composed of selected Shakespearian scenes.

**III. Look Pale with Love**

"Zexion, this is _not_ what I signed on for." Axel crossed his arms and scowled at his director.

Zexion shrugged diffidently. "No, you signed on to be a lead actor in this company and what this company does, you'll do."

"Working with _kids_?"

"They aren't kids, Axel, they're high school seniors. Seventeen and eighteen years old. And, anyway, there are only four of them." Zexion frowned at him sharply. "I'll admit, I'm not totally taken with the idea myself, but their senior project is Shakespeare in performance and being part of a production will finish it up so they can graduate."

Axel sighed and looked up at the ceiling like it would impart some sort of wisdom to get him through the trials and tribulations of a month-long project involving teenagers. "Whose idea was it to do historically accurate Shakespeare? I've done it before, but are our high school seniors on board with an all-male cast?"

"It was their proposal, believe it or not." Zexion looked down at the papers attached to his clipboard. "As far as I've gathered, doing it this way will get them extra credit, or something along those lines. And, before you ask, we're the only company in the area that's exclusively Shakespeare. That's why they came to us."

Axel sighed again and raked a hand back through his hair. "So, what, we spend a month working with them on a play and then do a performance? That's the deal?"

Zexion nodded. "That's the deal."

"Fine, whatever, I can handle it." There was no use fighting. Zexion had already decided to go through with his random act of altruism, nothing Axel said at that point would make any difference. "What play are we doing?"

"_Much Ado About Nothing._" Zexion went back to his clipboard. "You're our Benedick - it's a role you're familiar with - and I've slated Beatrice, Claudio, Borachio and Leonato for the students."

Axel smirked, amused. "You're going to make one of the young men play the lead woman?"

"They're the ones who wanted historical accuracy," Zexion deadpanned.

Axel laughed and shook his head. "Be careful what you wish for."

-

Beatrice ended up going to a blonde kid named Roxas. He was short and somewhat moody, with the bluest eyes Axel had ever seen. At first Axel had his doubts about how well the kid would be able to act - he wasn't the most outgoing and open person he'd come across, and he'd met a lot of people - but when they got into the proper rehearsals, he was pleasantly surprised.

"'I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Benedick,'" Roxas said mockingly, chin tilted haughtily. "'Nobody marks you.'"

"'What, my dear Lady Disdain!'" Axel exclaimed, eyes widening in mock-surprise. "'Are you yet living?'"

Roxas brought a hand up to rest on his hip, eyes narrowing. "'Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signor Benedick? Courtesy itself must revert to disdain if you come in her presence.'"

Axel shrugged dismissively. "'Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted.'" He closed the distance between them, leaning close and smiling slyly. "'And I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none.'"

"'A dear happiness to women!'" Roxas shot back instantly, meeting his gaze and waving an arm expressively. "'They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood I am of your humor for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.'"

Axel inclined his head mockingly. "'God keep your ladyship still in that mind! So some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face.'"

"'Scratching could not make it worse, if 'twere such a face as yours,'" Roxas replied cooly.

Axel drew back, raising his eyebrows. "'Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher.'"

"'A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.'" Roxas lifted his chin challengingly.

"'I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer.'" He shrugged elegantly and turned away to cross the stage to Don Pedro and Leonato. "'But keep your way, i' God's name. I have done.'"

Roxas glared after him. "'You always end with a jade's trick: I know you of old.'"

Zexion chose that moment to cut the rehearsal and Axel and Roxas met each other's gaze briefly from opposite sides of the stage. The chemistry was better than Axel had anticipated - they played off each other well. And there was something there, some spark between them that led to eating lunch together and chatting about everything but Shakespeare in the wings between scenes. Had he not known better, he would have said they were falling for each other.

But the kid was a kid and, besides, Axel didn't believe in such a thing as love.

He'd been telling himself that for so long that there was no way it was anything but true.

-

"You and Roxas seem to be getting on well," Zexion said casually, sitting down next to Axel in the green room, where Axel was drinking a bottle of water and trying to kill a headache. "I'm surprised - you're notoriously difficult to work with."

Axel shrugged one shoulder. "The kid's got some talent. And he doesn't get in my way."

Zexion looked amused. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you liked him."

"Is there something wrong with liking my co-star?" People were always going on about how important it was to have a good team spirit and all that. His solitary nature and single-minded focus had always been his biggest flaw as a member of a company.

"Just be careful, Axel. He's pretty young and you've never been good with people."

Axel looked over at him, caught off-guard. "Are you... seriously suggesting that I'd _do_ something with him? Jesus, Zex, he hasn't even turned eighteen yet."

Zexion shook his head. "I'm not suggesting anything, just mentioning that you aren't exactly a loving person and I don't want to see Roxas get hurt. He's a good kid, he might have a future in theatre if something else doesn't catch his interest. Don't give him the wrong idea."

Axel frowned and finished his water. "You don't have to worry about that. You know I'm not interested in romance, what could I possibly gain by leading on some teenager?"

"It was something I felt should be said," Zexion replied softly. "Just in case."

"Well, now you've said it." Axel tossed the empty bottle in the recycling bin. "If you'll excuse me - I think it's time to get ready for Act Five."

-

"'In brief, since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it.'" Axel took a few steps forward on the stage, moving a bit more front and centre. "'And therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.'" He turned to address Hayner, the kid playing Claudio, pointing at him. "'For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised and love my cousin.'"

"And cut!" Zexion called out from the wings, walking out onto the stage. "I think that's enough for today, gentlemen. We've made a lot of progress and you all deserve a break. We run the tech rehearsal tomorrow - please be on time."

Roxas came up to Axel as he walked down the back hall towards the green room. "You're really talented."

Axel smirked. "I've been doing this for awhile now, kid. I know my stuff."

"Well, yeah," Roxas rolled his eyes, "but there's more to it than that. You actually have skill. I mean, look at Hayner - he's learned the lines and he's doing okay, but there's not a lot behind it. It's a nice performance, but it's not fantastic."

"And I'm fantastic?" Axel glanced over at him, arching an eyebrow.

Roxas looked a little bit embarrassed when a moment later he quietly said, "Yeah, you kind of are."

And that... was bad. That was very bad. There were so many reasons why it was bad that Axel couldn't even count them all. Roxas was seventeen, Axel was twenty-five, it was a temporary association, Axel didn't believe in love...

"Ah," he said finally, after an uncomfortable pause during which Roxas' face flushed crimson. "I see."

By then they'd reached the green room and Roxas leapt on the opportunity to flee. "Well," he said quickly, grabbing his backpack off the floor and pointedly not looking at Axel, "anyway, I've got a lot of homework to get done tonight. See you tomorrow!"

And, before Axel could say anything else, he'd rushed off at a pace just slightly more dignified than a run.

Axel could only think of one thing to say and he said it loudly to the empty room.

"Fuck."

-

"'My lord,'" the extra playing the Messenger said politely, "'your brother John is ta'en in flight, and brought with armed men back to Messina.'"

Axel waved a hand and smiled. "'Think not on him till tomorrow: I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. Strike up, pipers!'"

The music started and the ending dance began. Axel's hand slipped lightly into Roxas' and they stared at each other in a way that said loudly without saying anything at all: _how much of this is real?_

And then the curtain fell and everyone was happy and riding the high of a successful show and the moment was lost, swept away by the tide of enthusiasm. The curtain call was beaming and ecstatic and Axel could safely say that it was the most ridiculously happy series of bows he'd ever been part of. There was a triumph in that moment that Axel hadn't felt since he'd been a theatre major back in his hometown. It was bright and refreshing and he was suddenly sad that the little side project had ended.

It wasn't until he and Roxas were alone in the green room, always the green room, everyone else off getting ready for the cast party, that things finally came to a head between them.

"What is this, Axel?" Roxas asked, voice soft and a little bit strained. "You've... we spent so much time together here, and it was so... I don't even know. I feel like there was more to this than just the characters we were playing. Did you... am I wrong?"

Axel wanted to say no. He wanted to reach out and reassure because, damn it, he'd never clicked with anyone like he had with Roxas. But Roxas was a kid. He had his whole life ahead of him. Axel would just be leading him on, like Zexion had said.

So he shook his head. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Roxas, this has been a pretty awesome month. But... you're only seventeen. You have a lot of growing up to do. You can't just leap into something like this with me."

Roxas looked almost like he'd been slapped. "T-that's it, then? I'm just a kid, so we're not even going to try?"

Axel nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's it. It has to be it, Roxas, because the circumstances are all sorts of wrong and there's nothing else to do."

"What if it feels right, though?" Those blue-blue eyes pled with Axel to capitulate, to change his mind and come around. And he wanted to, he really did, but the sense of wrongness won out. Apparently, his conscience was alive and well, after all.

"It doesn't matter. It's not the right time." He rolled his neck, trying to relieve some of the tension he could feel building there. "Go out and experience the world. You have a lot of talent, you could take up theatre, or whatever else catches your interest. But you've gotta live a little, Roxas - figure out who you are before trying to get hung up on someone else."

Roxas worried at his lower lip. "What about after? Will we have a chance then?"

There wouldn't be a then. Axel knew it. Roxas would move on, go to college, and forget. But one little lie couldn't hurt, not if it would make the parting a little gentler.

"Sure thing. If you come back, we'll give it a shot."

And he smiled, even though he was pretty sure he could feel the heart he'd told himself he didn't have breaking.

-

Axel was sitting in front of the mirror, head resting on the back of his hands, when the door opened and shut behind him. He heard someone lean back against the frame silently, and waited for whoever it was to speak.

"'I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love.'"

He sat up then, looking at Zexion, reflected in the mirror and watching him with something like wonder. He shook his head.

"'With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord.'" He smiled sadly. "'Not with love.'"

He turned his attention away from Zexion's reflection to look at himself in the glass, took in how pale he was beneath the stage makeup, and murmured, more to himself than to his director, "'For man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.'"


	4. Sleep Well

Notes: First of all, I did a slight edit to my ffn pen name to match my standard username (lelekia to Lelek), so... if you noticed a difference, that's why. Just saying, to avoid any confusion about who this writer is. I'm still me, I swear!

Second, this took awhile. I seem to be saying that about everything these days, but it's true. I'm just so damn busy this term with my ridiculous course schedule and overachieving ways that writing gets pushed farther and farther back. But, here I am, back at it with doomed life number four. The style is a little different, a little dreamier and a little sadder, it's a little shorter, and alcohol/drug use is a theme. So, yeah, be warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to _Sleep Well_ by the band Lydia. Also, the bit of poetry quoted about halfway through is from Eliot's _The Wasteland_. I'm an English major who likes the Modernists, okay? I gave Roxas some of my literary sensibilities.

**IV. Sleep Well**

Roxas has train wreck potential.

Axel knows it, can feel it in every nicotine-stained breath shared between them, can see it in the way Roxas' white skin clings paper-thin and taut to his bird-frail bones, can hear it in the half-whispered dreams Roxas has always been too honest to keep to himself.

He's beautiful and tragic and lethal and young and one day his hopeless devotion to True Love will kill him, or Axel, or both.

If Axel doesn't cut ties first. And he might, one day, when he gets too tired to walk a knife's edge with the boy who fascinates him more than anyone else he's ever seen. It might be love, or it might be something else if everything Roxas believes in is wrong and love doesn't exist, after all. Axel doesn't know what he believes, because Axel is just a disaffected kid from the suburbs who got bored with safe inanity and went off one sunny day to the city where he could fall in with a rougher, edgier crowd.

And that's where he met Roxas. Roxas with his golden hair and blue-blue eyes and soft voice and little pauses in his speech, like his mind works faster than his mouth can follow, so he has to stop and translate his thoughts into a language normal humans can understand. Roxas who's like razor-wire dipped in honey, sharp and sick-sweet and deadly.

It's nights like this, when the heroin is humming in Roxas' veins and Axel is tossing back shots of the cheap Aristocrat vodka that always burns his throat until he's done enough shots that even his teeth have gone numb, that the melancholy hits and he asks himself _why am I here?_

He told Roxas once that he was probably depressed. Roxas just laughed because, in spite of everything, he knows Axel, probably better than Axel knows himself.

_You just think you're sick,_ he'd said, leaning intimately close so that all Axel could see was extraordinary blue. _You want it, to look out at the world and see nothing but a heap of broken images, where the sun beats, and the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, and the dry stone no sound of water. _

And then he'd laughed again, loudly and freely, because he's Roxas and the only person Axel knows who can slip depressing poetry into his drunken conversation and find the whole thing hilarious.

But that's part of the appeal, isn't it? The recklessness verging on insanity, doused in alcohol and pulled through smoke and shot through with heroin just for good measure.

Axel wouldn't want him any other way.

And it isn't like Axel couldn't just leave at any time. He has a home to go back to, in secure suburbia, where Demyx still plays pointless little gigs in pretentious little coffee shops, dreaming of fame and fortunate and going nowhere fast, holding back his boyfriend who could be brilliant if he'd finally accept university funding and get the fuck out of Dodge. Axel could go back there. He'd dazzle them all, with his carefully crafted edge and hint of city-bred danger. He'd be dark and mysterious, just like he'd always dreamed of.

Yeah, he could do that.

But then he looks at Roxas in the sickly light of endless early mornings and all he can think is _I will never get over you._ And it's such a pity, such a travesty, because that sort of commitment isn't what he wanted at all, they're too self-destructive to keep going like this indefinitely, and Axel is left empty and aching at the necessity of Roxas' loss.

He doesn't think those thoughts when it's dark. It's daylight that makes him honest, and so he sleeps late and spends his nights killing brain cells with the boy he really can't stand save for despairing at the thought of living without him.

They're sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall on either side of the bathroom door, blowing clouds of acrid blue-gray smoke into the still air and talking about emptiness and continuity, and it takes Axel a minute to realise that Roxas is on his feet and leaving the room, the back of one trembling hand pressed to his colourless lips.

He leaves the bathroom door hanging open, but doesn't turn on the lights, and by the time Axel's followed him and flicked the switch, he's already spitting in the sink so he won't throw up. His lips thin for a moment, tense and pained, but then he looks at Axel in the mirror and his eyes are feverish and darkly amused as he shakes his head and laughs like he's never seen anything so funny in his life.

And Axel just stares back at him, blankly, as a single line from a song he doesn't really know by a band he's never really listened to starts running over and over again through his head.

_Darling, you fucked up._


	5. When it Rains

Notes: Like pretty much everything else I've been trying to update lately, this took a really long time. But, I'm finished with school till fall and that means it's officially the season of fanfic productivity! Particularly since the job market's looking pretty sad right now.

Anyway, as of this part we are more than halfway through this fic! It's another dismal one, dedicated in part to all of us who have to try a little harder to get up in the morning, but after this there are only three more failures before the life that works out for our fucked up protagonists. So the happy ending is coming into sight!

As always, I hope you enjoy (even if unhappiness abounds) and reviews are love.

Disclaimer: The song _When it Rains_ belongs to Paramore. I'm just borrowing some lyrics and its title because they've got the right idea.

**V. When it Rains**

_And when it rains on this side of town it touches everything_

_Just say it again and mean it_

_We don't miss a thing_

_You made yourself a bed at the bottom of the blackest hole_

_And convinced yourself that it's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore_

After a certain age, mental illness just stops being interesting.

Axel remembers a time when he was almost _proud_ of how crazy he was, when he chased Lorazepam with whiskey and got so fucked up on a regular basis that he'd sit in the shower with all his clothes on at four in the morning and laugh so hard he might as well have been crying. When he'd try anything just to feel something for a little while, something that wasn't not-happiness and not-sadness and not-anger. It had been frustrating, infuriating, exhausting. A living hell he'd put himself through every single day because he hadn't yet grown up enough to deal with his own flaws.

But finally, after years of knocking himself down and throwing months of his life away to residential psychiatric facilities that took his shoelaces and gave him pills in little plastic cups, that all faded away. He lost his slightly rabid, frantic edge. He stopped responding to depression with violent stupidity, stopped pretending periods of hypomania during which he stayed up all night doing stupid shit, slept for three hours, rinse and repeat, for weeks at a time were normal. He grew up.

He grew up and took the right pills in the right order and the right dose. He finished school and got a job and put together a life he could handle. And sometimes there were bad days, days when something as simple getting out of bed felt like climbing Mount fucking Everest, but he did it anyway because that's what he had to do. Eight hours of work? Try a half-hour sixteen times in a row.

Axel doesn't try to pretend this is ideal. He won't lie - he's still a little fucked up, more than a little on the bad days, and things are harder for him than they are for most people. But he's happy enough, most of the time, because depressed isn't the same as sad, and when he doesn't feel quite up to par, he just sighs and shakes his head and thinks _well, here we go again._

And he's pretty okay with all of this, feeling pretty good about his life, until he meets Roxas.

They meet in a bar and, when he sees him, Axel could have sworn the kid, all blonde hair and blue eyes and soft white skin, wasn't old enough to be in there at all.

He watches him for awhile from a distance, sitting with Demyx at a table and glancing over every few minutes to check out the skinny kid leaning against the bar, drinking too fast and laughing too loud. He watches him first because the kid's fucking beautiful, but later because Axel recognises the guarded brittleness in his stance, the way his hand is just a little too still around the glass. He reminds Axel of people he'd known back when he was in and out of BHC, the kids who sit around and trade stories about why they've been committed, just because there's nothing better to talk about when your world's gone white and dull and empty.

Axel is a solid 95% sure the kid's spent time in psychiatric care by the time that blue-blue gaze turns on him and he finds himself being pulled into intoxicated conversation with the person who might have been the boy of his dreams had he not been so obviously self-destructive and on the brink of total collapse.

_What's your name?_ The booze on the kid's breath is enough to knock a weaker man down, but Axel's had plenty of experience with that sort of thing and doesn't even flinch.

_Axel. _He smiles and leans closer, even though he already knows it's doomed. _Yours?_

_Roxas._

Roxas' smile is like a spotlight from heaven and Axel tries as hard as he can to believe that there could be more to them than one night because, even if they couldn't have a life-long relationship or some such shit, it'd be nice to make it a few weeks with someone you're fascinated by. But he already knows better, with only half a dozen words exchanged between them. Roxas is what Axel was, a few years back, running too hard and trying to destroy himself at every turn because it can be so incredibly beautiful to sit back and watch your life burn.

Axel meets his gaze and sees the hardened secrecy and the dullness mostly hidden by the gleam of intoxication, and he knows exactly where this will go. Roxas will drink a little more on Axel's tab, offer Axel some of the pills he's got tucked in his pocket, or his bag, pull out a cigarette or two and laugh a lot, and then they'll leave together. They'll drive for awhile, sobering up, and then go back to Axel's apartment and have a good fuck. It'll feel right, like the first time with the love of your life is supposed to feel, and they'll have a perfect, bittersweet conversation in the early hours of the morning before falling asleep in each other's arms.

And, when he wakes up, Roxas will be gone because that's what kids like him do. Axel knows. He did it, too.

It's not worth the heartache.

So he shakes his head and smiles a little, knowing that it's the sort of smile novelists write about - a genuinely sad smile - and sets down his empty glass.

_I'm sorry._

And he walks away.


	6. Stray Italian Greyhound

Notes: And now for something completely different. This is a weird one, in terms of the series as a whole, I think. It's overall the most optimistic and happy, which possibly makes it the saddest. It can't end well, and they know it, but that doesn't take away their sort of doomed joy in being together. They're victims of circumstance, trying even though it will be over almost before it can begin.

Disclaimer: _Stray Italian Greyhound_ is a song by Vienna Teng. The song itself is not what this story is about (unlike the song in part I), but it has the right tone and I put it on loop while writing.

**VI: Stray Italian Greyhound**

_So what do I do with this?_

_This stray Italian greyhound_

_These inconvenient fireworks_

_This ice-cream-covered screaming hyperactive throng_

_God, I just want to lay down_

_These colours make my eyes hurt_

_This feeling calls for everything that I am not_

Roxas isn't sure when this happened, this thing that's come into his life and settled in and taken over. Had it been a week ago? Two? The moment a man with crazy red hair and too-bright eyes had come up to his table in a crowded coffee shop and asked if he could sit down?

It's been three and a half weeks. Three and a half weeks and his face is starting to hurt from smiling so much, the muscles trying to once again get used to the movement after so many months of _worrypainfear_ that had finally lost their nerve and slipped into _bitternessindifferenceapathy. _

He's tired, he really is, no less tired than he'd been before Axel had walked in and thrown open the blinds to let in the light. But it is getting easier - it's easier to make himself get out of bed in the morning when he knows that there's someone out there who will always be happy to see him.

But Axel, who is _colourvibranceyjoy_, doesn't know and Roxas has to tell him before the guilt overwhelms him. Before Axel gets too attached and won't want to leave. It will be better if Axel leaves. Roxas will hate it, will be back to resignation and long sighs and staring out the window and wishing for rain, but Axel will be happier in the long run.

It probably means something that he cares so much.

"Hey, babe," Axel says easily, sliding into his seat across the table and slipping a white lily into Roxas' hand. "Here, there was a chick selling 'em and I decided you had to have one."

A flower. Axel brought him a fucking flower. Roxas tightens his fingers around the stem and feels like crying. He doesn't, though, because he's already cried enough for a dozen lifetimes and doesn't want to do it anymore. It doesn't help, anyway, and just leaves him with aching, tired eyes and damp sleeves.

His silence is probably worrisome, because Axel's peering at him, eyes alight with _concernaffectioninterest_. "You okay, Rox? You're not looking very good."

Of course he's not. Roxas can't even remember the last time he really had. It's funny in that way that really isn't at all that Axel hardly ever seems to notice.

"I..." Was there even a nice way to say it? No. "Listen, I have something to tell you." He draws a deep breath, can smell just a hint of the lily in the air between them. It's _sweetcleanperfect_ and makes his chest ache a little. "I have cancer."

Axel blinks once, twice, then nods slowly. "What kind?"

"You know the kind you get better from?" He smiles bitterly. "That's not the kind I have."

Another nod, a little wary. "How long?"

"A little over a year." Roxas lifts the lily to his nose briefly. "I really should have died a couple months back, but I guess I'm a stubborn son of a bitch or something. Or maybe I was waiting to meet you." He hadn't meant to say it, so he keeps talking to cover it up. "Anyway, I saw my doctor the other day and he said that, at this point, it's anyone's guess how much time I've got. I could drop dead next week, or I could hold on a little longer. But I know I won't see the end of the year. I can feel it."

Axel's just staring at him, s_tunnedangrysad_, so Roxas, turning the flower slowly in his fingers, lets himself talk, all the things he'd wanted to say to someone, _anyone_, but never had.

"I hope it happens in my sleep. Gently, you know? Just go to bed one night and not wake up in the morning." He nods. "That's the best way, I think." He looks up finally, meeting Axel's gaze. "I thought you needed to know, so you can get out now." His lips twitch in something that's almost a smile. "You deserve better than my last days."

And his silence breaks as Axel reaches across the table and grabs Roxas' hand tightly enough to bruise. He shakes his head fiercely and says, eyes gleaming _brightdeterminedbrave_, "Let's go out for dinner."

"What?" And Roxas is so surprised he laughs. "Why?"

"Because I want to. Because I'm falling in love with you. Because you're beautiful." He smiles, a little watery, but holding strong. "You are so beautiful and, when I look at you, it's like looking at butterflies and sunsets. Things that are so breathtaking they can't last long in this ruined, fucked up world. And I just want to hold onto you and protect you, but I can't, so we're going to dress up and I'm going to take you to the nicest restaurant in town. Have you ever done that?"

Roxas' throat is a little tight and his eyes burn, but he blinks a few times to keep his vision clear. He doesn't want to stop seeing Axel's colours, bright spots in a world gone otherwise flat and grey. The best he can do is whisper, "No."

"Then it's decided. We're going." His smile is _fiercehappyfragile_. "And we're going to do something nice every single day, from here on out. Even if it's just coffee, or a walk downtown, we're going to live every second we have left. And then we won't regret anything."

He's wrong, of course. Roxas knows it. They'll be filled with regret, when the end comes, because it will come so quickly that all they'll be able to think is _I wish I'd met him sooner._ But they can't change the past, anymore than Roxas can get rid of the sickness that's killing him faster and faster every day.

The end will hurt, when it comes in a week or a month or a few, even more now that his life has become worth living again. But it'll be worth it, too, to have that small burst of happiness to hold onto. It'll be enough, just barely enough, to make up for all the pain and loneliness.

"What do you say?" Axel strokes his wrist comfortingly, unsteady fingers belying his calm.

It's hopeless. Roxas is just going to die. Axel would be so much better off without him.

But he smiles because, even though he knows with a certainty that's like breathing that it's all going to end in heartbreak, he's never been so happy.

"Okay."


	7. Needle in the Camel's Eye

Notes: Man, I am on a roll with this fic. Which is kind of awesome, kind of sad because that means the fic will be over soon, and kind of strange given that I wrote this entire section, read back through it, and decided it sucked. So this is actually Part VII 2: Electric Boogaloo... wait, wrong movie. Anyway, it's not sad like the last one (or, really, most of them), but it is kind of... frustrating, I suppose. I have to say, though, I'm kind of digging worldly, sophisticated Roxas. Who, disregarding canon, is older than Axel for once.

Disclaimer: Even though it has absolutely _nothing_ to do with anything, Needle in the Camel's Eye is a song by Brian Eno. It's used in one of my all-time favourite films, Velvet Goldmine. I needed a title and was listening to the VG soundtrack while finishing this up, so... there you have it.

**VII. Needle in the Camel's Eye**

There's never anyone in the waiting room on Tuesday mornings (and he would know, having had the 11:30 appointment slot for eight months, two weeks and counting), so Axel feels he's justified in watching the blonde kid sitting across from him and one to the left.

He's kind of... pretty, in a pale and pointy sort of way, and he must have been sitting outside because his blonde hair is dripping rain water down the side of his face. He also must be bored out of his fucking skull because he's been flipping through a backdated copy of _Time_ since before Axel came in and sat down seven minutes ago. Axel knows it's been seven minutes because he always gets to the waiting room thirteen minutes before his appointment starts. It used to be a compulsion, now it's just a habit he doesn't feel like breaking.

"Your name's Axel, yeah?" the kid says abruptly, flipping the magazine shut and setting it aside. Judging from his voice, he's older than he looks. Judging by his accent, he's English.

It takes Axel a second to respond because he meets the kid's too-blue gaze and it's kind of like staring down forever. "How did you know that?"

He shrugs. "I've heard Doctor Clark say something about Axel's appointment a few times as I was leaving. Given that you're the only other person here, I assumed that's you."

"So you have, what, the 10:30?" It's the first time Axel's ever spoken to another patient and it's a little weird, but not necessarily a bad thing.

"10:25, actually." He flicks his left hand dismissively. He has very long fingers and could stand to cut his nails. "I'm usually long gone by now, but my ride called to let me know that he's stuck in traffic, so I came back inside. The weather's spectacular."

Axel honestly can't tell if the kid's being sarcastic or not, so he overlooks it. "Yeah, it's pretty wet."

"I'm Roxas, by the way." His pale lips twitch in a quirky sort of half-smile. Everything about him is pale and, taking him in more directly, Axel notices that his right hand is bandaged up.

"Nice to meet you." He nods towards his hand. "What happened?"

"I put my hand through a picture window." The smile shifts into a smirk. "Not to worry, I've done stupider things."

Axel knows how that goes. "Me, too, man."

"Solidarity in insanity." He smirks again and Axel knows he's being sarcastic now. "So, what have they got you for?"

"Bipolar, type II, with a side of OCD. You?" There's something familiar about this, in an unhealthy sort of way. It reminds him of his brief stay in psychiatric care his freshman year of high school.

"Major Depressive Disorder." He's got the same sort of nonchalance about his personal variety of fucked up. It's a good indication that he'd been admitted at some point, too.

"Fun stuff." Axel leans back in his chair.

"Oh yeah, a _riot_." But the sardonic little smirk is back. "How long have you been seeing Clark?"

"Eight months, two weeks," he replies instantly. It's probably a sign that his OCD isn't quite as under control as he claims that he keeps track of things like this so carefully.

"That's a long time to see the same doctor." He nods thoughtfully. "I've only been coming here since March. I was living elsewhere before that."

March. About three months, then. "Kinda crazy that this is the first time we've seen each other, huh?"

"I usually leave pretty quickly." Another shrug. He flexes his bandaged fingers in a way that looks reflexive.

"Understandable." It's Axel's turn to nod. He certainly doesn't stick around long after his own painfully long sessions of talking shit out. He doesn't feel like he needs this anymore, really, the Lamotrigine keeps him pretty stable, but no one really trusts him. Not after the second time he tried to kill himself, anyway. But that was when he was being misdiagnosed and given Zoloft, which hadn't done shit, so he's reasonably sure he's no longer in such a bad place that he needs weekly therapy to cope.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Roxas flashes him another thin smile. "Or a euro, since I don't have any domestic currency on me."

"Why do you only have foreign currency?" It sounds a little weird, and when Axel can say that it's kind of bad.

"Well, I spend domestic currency, but no one around here takes euros or yen, so I never get rid of them. Left-overs from various holidays and all that. You want one?" He fishes a slim leather wallet out of his back pocket and pulls a coin out of it. "Here, you get... ten yen." And he deftly flips the coin across the distance between them for Axel to catch.

Axel turns the coin over in his hands thoughtfully. It's kind of pretty, sort of like Roxas is. Not _really_, but a little. "Thanks."

He waves his uninjured hand negligently. "Don't mention it."

"No, it's cool. I've never been to Asia." He tucks it in his pocket.

"You should go. Japan's pretty fun - I was there with my S.O. last summer. Hotter than hell, and humid like you wouldn't believe, but I enjoyed it. The parts when I wasn't sitting in meetings, anyway."

"Meetings?" He tilts his head slightly to one side curiously.

"Yeah." He shrugs again. It seems to be his gesture of choice. "I was interpreting. That S.O. I mentioned? He isn't fluent and I am, so it all works out out. It was more business than pleasure, but it usually is." He's rolling his eyes now, as he crosses his arms loosely. "What can you do? It gets me out of the country every once in a while and that's more than most people can say, yeah?"

"Yeah," Axel agrees. Roxas' life sounds way more exciting than Axel's and he's not really sure what else to say. He's also upping Roxas' potential age the longer the conversation goes on. His initial estimate of eighteen or nineteen has turned more to twenty four or twenty five.

After a pause that's surprisingly comfortable, Roxas stands. He's short and very thin, his grey pinstripe shirt hanging a little loose. "Well, he should just about be here, so I should probably get going." He smiles again, flashing teeth that look slightly nicotine-stained. "It was nice talking to you, Axel. Today was my last appointment with this doctor and a conversation with someone who's with me in the crazy boat was a good send-off."

Axel's left even more at a loss. He was starting to get into the conversation and the revelation that he'll probably never see the guy again is a little sad. "It was cool, yeah."

"You take care, okay?" He shrugs into a black duster and pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket, which is a little odd given the weather, but Axel isn't really in a position to judge quirks. "Don't let the doctors get you down. They like to think they know all the secrets, but I've been around the block a time or two and I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that they don't really know much more than you. They're just doing the best they can to make us functional members of society. And, hey, that's the most we can really ask of them, you know?" He smiles again and it's a little warmer than before.

"Yeah, thanks," Axel replies, standing, too, because it feels like the right thing to do. "You take care, too. And thanks for the yen, I'll keep Japan in mind next time I can take a vacation."

"Do." He nods. "See you around, kid."

"Axel," the receptionist calls out, "the doctor's ready to see you."

Axel turns his head to look at her. "Okay, just a sec."

But by the time he turns back around to look at Roxas and say goodbye, the door's already swinging shut.


	8. Leaving You Behind

Notes: Yes, it's true, I still exist. I hope you didn't die of shock. Basically, I had the summer job from hell, but the job has ended and I'm back to writing! So, really, this fic will be finishing fairly soon - this is the last failure before they make it right.

As for this part? Well, there are a few things that I can do very well. Getting lost in Japanese train stations is one of them. Osaka Station has a particularly long and ridiculous story, involving lost bags, broken cell phones and cheap beer on a train to Kyoto at two in the morning, but put me in any major station (Shinjuku, Hamamatsucho, Ginza...) and chances are I will find a way to get hopelessly confused. That's partly the inspiration for this story.

Also, the first line is my best approximation of a Tokyo train station announcement. I'm sure it's not perfect, but I couldn't find what the exact text is, so I made something up (soon, a train will arrive at track two. Because it's dangerous, please wait behind the yellow line). It's close to what you'd hear if you were in Japan, I promise!

Disclaimer: "Leaving You Behind" is a really cool song by Herrmann & Kleine that has Japanese train station announcements sampled into techno music.

**VIII. Leaving You Behind**

_Mamonaku ni ban sen ni densha ga mairimasu. Abunai desu kara kiiro sen no uchigawa ni sagatte omachi kudasai._

Roxas tilted his head slightly to the right and, with his rudimentary Japanese skills, was able to parcel out that another train was arriving. And that something was dangerous. It was very unhelpful and, finally giving up on playing human roulette with the trains, he made his way back through the crowd, up the stairs and away from the platforms because he had no idea what train to take anyway and would probably have guessed wrong.

As he stalked unhappily through the late-night traffic in Shinjuku Station (and just why it was so crowded after eleven o'clock on a Sunday, he would never understand), he muttered aloud to himself, "Follow the signs from the south exit, he said, you can't miss it, he said. Didn't think to mention that there are two fucking south exits, _no_, of course not!"

A nearby young woman gave him a slightly alarmed look, then turned away quickly in a textbook example of the if-I-can't-see-him-he-can't-see-me approach. Roxas scowled at the back of her perfectly styled and peroxided head and kept walking. He was bound to find something, or someone, helpful at some point, even if he had to walk the entire length and breadth of the station to find it. He really hoped it wouldn't come to that, though, because he really just wanted to get back to his hotel and sleep. He was flying back to Chicago in less than fifteen hours and the trip was going to be very long.

"You lost?"

Roxas started and turned sharply to look at the American who'd somehow managed to materialise out of a sea of Japanese people. How Roxas hadn't noticed him coming was a mystery, too, because he was very tall, very pale and he had ridiculously red hair. Despite his somewhat outrageous appearance, though, he looked like he might have been a businessman, dressed in a pinstripe suit with his hair pulled back neatly.

"Uh, yeah," he said hesitantly, his don't-talk-to-strangers instinct clashing with his oh-thank-God-you-speak-English relief.

The guy grinned wryly. "Shinjuku Station is hell. Hell designed by crazy people. Where are you trying to go?"

"Ikebukuro." Roxas grinned back, giving in to relief. "My friend ditched me with the worst directions ever for how to find my train."

"You want the Yamanote Line," the guy said instantly. "Going clockwise."

Roxas arched an eyebrow, mildly impressed. "You must ride the train a lot."

The guy laughed. It was a pretty nice laugh, too, freer than anything else Roxas had heard in his two weeks in Japan. It took the edge of his extreme irritation. "Yeah, I live in Takadanobaba, so the Yamanote line and I are well-acquainted. I picked my neighbourhood for the name, in case you're wondering." He winked.

Roxas chuckled. "You actually live in this insane city?"

"Yep." Abruptly the guy stuck out his hand. "I'm Axel, by the way."

Roxas shook his hand. "Roxas."

"Roxas," Axel repeated. "I like it - it's memorable. So I take it you're a tourist?"

"How'd you guess?" Roxas replied dryly. "I came to visit an old friend for a couple of weeks and it... wasn't quite as awesome as it could have been." He wasn't sure why he was comfortable telling any of that to a stranger, when he hadn't even considered mentioning it to anyone else, but it was late and he was exhausted and the utter disappointment that had been his two week holiday in Japan had finally just worn him out. "And then he gave me shitty directions and I got lost in Shinjuku Station with only the Japanese language skills instilled in me by a first year class in college to fall back on."

"Sounds like you're having a great time," Axel observed, smirking slightly. "You hungry? There's not much open at this time of night, but I could probably find a ramen place. My treat."

Roxas looked at him for a few seconds, debating his intentions, and then decided that he was hungry enough that he didn't care. "Yeah, okay. Ramen sounds great."

Axel beamed. "Awesome."

As it turned out, an open ramen shop was not to be found at a quarter to midnight, but there was an open McDonald's at the station and, half-apologetic and half-amused, Axel bought him a burger.

"If there is one thing I've learned in this life," he informed Roxas solemnly, "it is that you can always rely on McDonald's."

Roxas rolled his eyes, but said sincerely, "Thanks for this."

Axel waved his hand dismissively. "Don't mention it. You're having a rough night - least I could do to help out my fellow gaijin."

"How long have you lived in Japan?" Roxas took a bite out of his Big Mac. It certainly wasn't his favourite meal ever, but anything tasted good when he was hungry.

Axel tilted his head to one side thoughtfully and toyed with a fry. "About six years now. I came as a student and just never left, you know? I used to live up near Sendai, but I moved to Tokyo about a year and a half ago. Got a better job offer, interpreting for Toshiba execs."

Roxas was rapidly realising that Axel was the sort of person who would probably tell a stranger his life story, if given the time. It was different, and kind of funny. "Do you like it?"

"What, my job or Tokyo?" He sipped his soda.

"Either." Roxas shrugged. "Both."

"Hmm." He tapped a tapered finger against his cheek thoughtfully. "The job is pretty good, even if the hours are a little weird, and Tokyo is Tokyo. One of a kind. I don't think I'll live here forever, though. It's... frenetic, which is good right now, but will probably get a little old after a few years." He blinked slowly and smiled. "What about you? Where do you live? What do you do when you're not have disappointing holidays and getting lost in Shinjuku?"

"I live in Chicago and I'm a freelance photographer, for magazines and whatnot." He smiled wryly. "Not as interesting as a business interpreter in Tokyo, I'm afraid."

"Are you kidding?" Axel grinned at him, flashing white teeth. "You're basically a professional artist! That's so fucking cool."

Roxas had to grin, too, in the face of that sort of enthusiasm. "Yeah, I guess, maybe."

"I'm serious, man," Axel insisted. "Most people would kill to have a job like that. So much better than interpreting boring business meetings all the time. And Chicago's pretty class - I've only been there once, and it was winter, but I had a lot of fun."

"It's a nice city, yeah." Roxas nodded and finished his burger. He was really having a good time, way more than he'd expected when he'd said yes to the late-night dinner offer. Axel was really easy to talk to, and this one conversation was making up for all the bullshit he'd been through over the course of his generally unpleasant attempt at a vacation.

Axel reached across the table suddenly and poked his forehead. "Yo, Roxas. What are you thinking about?" It was a very bold question to ask someone he'd just met and Roxas admired him for having the confidence.

"Just that... this is fun." He snorted. "The most fun I've had since coming to Japan, honestly. It's been a pretty lame trip. My friend, who really wanted me to come, bailed on me at just about every turn, so I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what to do with myself alone in Tokyo. This owns everything else I've done in this country, I'm not kidding."

Axel was looking at him in a way that almost made him squirm. It wasn't a questioning look, really, more thoughtful, coloured with what might have been disappointment. "When did you say you were going home, again?"

"Tomorrow... well, today now," Roxas admitted, a little bit reluctantly. It figured that he'd meet someone awesome who, judging by the way he was being stared at, was at least marginally interested right before he got on a plane to go halfway across the world.

"Oh," Axel said softly, sounding a little downcast in the face of the cold fact that Roxas was leaving in a few hours. They definitely didn't have enough time to get to know each other properly, and there wasn't much point to even trying because they'd probably never see each other again, anyway. "That's... yeah."

Roxas bit his lower lip briefly, not really sure what to say. Then, "Well, I guess I should be getting back to the station. I should get some sleep before heading out to the airport. It's a pretty long flight, with a connection in LA, so..."

"Yeah," Axel agreed, sighing softly. Then he forcibly brightened. "This was pretty sweet, though. I hardly ever have time to do anything spontaneous, so you really made my night."

"Same." Roxas smiled at him, sure he was doing a poor job at hiding his unhappiness at having to leave so soon. It was stupid, because they didn't know each other at all and there was no reason to think they'd get along for more than one night regardless, but he couldn't help regretting the lost opportunity.

"I'll walk you to the right gate." Axel smiled back. "Wouldn't want you getting lost again, after all."

Roxas shuddered comically. "No kidding."

Axel got up smoothly, sliding back into his jacket, and then motioned, a little bit dramatically. "After you."

The station was much emptier at half-past one than it had been at a quarter to twelve and Roxas was a little surprised to realise that he missed the busyness. Maybe it was because he felt like he was walking away from a good thing, and the noise would have been a nice distraction.

"This is you," Axel said, breaking the companionable silence and motioning ahead. "They do the announcements on the train in English, too, so you won't be able to miss your station."

Roxas pursed his lips and debated saying something, anything, about their brief rapport. But it felt way too pointless, so he forced a bright smile instead. "Thanks, I really appreciate this." He paused, uncertainly, then said the only thing he could think of, "Take care, Axel."

Axel looked like he was having the same internal debate as Roxas, only to reach the same conclusion. "You, too. Have a good flight."

Roxas summoned up another smile. "Oh, I'm sure." And, not knowing what else to say, turned away.

"See you around," Axel said, voice mostly light with just a hint of resignation and irony.

Roxas pressed his lips together again briefly, biting back a sudden feeling that he was forgetting something very important, then turned back to wave as he walked through the gate.

It was only after he'd got on a train, hopefully the right one, that he realised it.

_I never even got his last name._


	9. Boston

Notes: So... this is it. Roughly nine months after starting this little project, it's come to an end. I didn't actually plan it to be nine parts in nine months, but it looks nice and neat, so we can pretend it was intentional. Anyway, I hope you aren't disappointed - it is a happy ending, particularly in comparison with the rest, but it's not quite fluff. Part of the point of this fic was to be as true to life as possible within the bounds of this fantastical concept. But this is the good ending, where they finally make the right choice and do things properly. No more woe!

As a side note, this is one of the three lives I had in mind from the beginning. The others came up as I wrote.

Disclaimer: "Boston" belongs to Augustana.

**IX: Boston**

_I think I'll go to Boston_

_I think that I'm just tired_

_I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind_

_I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of the sunset_

_I hear it's nice in the summer, some snow would be nice_

Roxas was done. Five years in LA, working in the entertainment industry, going to shallow parties and pretending to still be into a girl he had almost nothing in common with anymore, and he'd finally snapped. The stress and the falseness and the sheer effort it took to go through the motions of his daily life had worn through his last nerve and all he could think about was getting out.

So he did it. He broke up with Selphie and quit his job and terminated the lease on his apartment. Everything that might have had a future use was put in storage and the rest was sold, thrown out or given away. He pulled out five hundred dollars in cash, paid the last of his bills, and packed the things he couldn't live without in a backpack. He called his sister and talked her into letting him forward mail to her address.

He did it all in three weeks.

The morning of the last day he would be living in his overpriced apartment, he stood in the middle of the empty living room and just looked around at all the space he'd never really had much use for anyway. It was kind of funny, in a sad sort of way, that it had taken less than a month to deconstruct a life that had taken five years to build.

Namine was upset with him because he'd always had a plan and it had landed him a job thousands of people would kill for, complete with a beautiful girlfriend and a nice place to live, and he was throwing it away. She was worried because, in the end, all his plans hadn't taken him to a place he wanted to be, so instead he was choosing to move on without one.

She'd asked him over the phone, tearfully and fearful and on the verge of anger, just what the fuck he thought he was going to do.

He'd laughed, because uncertainty had never felt so good. And then he'd given her the most complete, honest answer possible.

"I don't know. But hitching a ride will be a good start."

That had horrified her. People didn't hitchhike anymore - it was mostly illegal, for one, not to mention dangerous. But Roxas had already decided and nothing she said could change his mind. He was going to hitchhike, with his backpack and his cash, and on the way to wherever it was his ride took him, he'd figure out what to do after they got there.

No matter what went down, though, he was dead sure he wouldn't be coming back to Los Angeles.

And that was that. He nodded decisively and smiled at the last look at his old life, and then he turned and walked out the apartment door.

_Ready, steady, go._

He went out and got breakfast, read one of the paperbacks he'd brought along and took his time. It was nice not to be in a hurry for once and he intended to enjoy every minute of it. Then he headed out, walking in no direction in particular.

It was a little past three o'clock, and he was starting to consider getting out of the sun for awhile, when a car pulled over and the driver leaned across the passenger seat to peer at him through the open window. It was a guy, maybe a couple of years older than Roxas, with wild red hair and little diamond-shaped tattoos under his eyes. Something about him was really familiar, only not, almost like something out of a dream. He grinned easily, flashing white teeth.

"You looking for a ride?" he called.

Roxas shrugged one shoulder, snapping himself out of the weird moment of not-quite-deja vu. "You offering?"

The guy laughed and the sense of familiarity grew. "Maybe I am. People don't hitchhike much these days - if I don't pick you up, maybe no one will."

Roxas shrugged again, smiling and ignoring the little voice of caution insisting that this felt _too weird_. "I'm sure I'll manage, either way. But a ride would still be pretty great."

The guy nodded and flicked the lock on the door. "Hop in, then. It's getting pretty hot, wouldn't want you to get sun stroke, right?"

Roxas opened the door and slid into the empty seat, tossing his backpack over his shoulder. "I'm tougher than I look, I can take it."

He got another toothy grin. "I think we're gonna get along." He stuck out a long, spidery hand. "The name's Axel."

Roxas shook hands firmly, grinning back. "Roxas. Nice to meet you."

Axel nodded. "Sweet." He ran the hand he'd offered back through his hair, giving Roxas a long, contemplative look. For a second, it seemed like he was going to say something, then he sort of shrugged and asked, "So, where are you headed?"

Roxas hesitated. The crazy recklessness of the situation crashed down on him all at once - he was by himself in a stranger's car, his entire life in a backpack behind him, seriously considering telling that stranger to drive him somewhere. The sane, reasonable thing to do was apologise for wasting Axel's time and get out of the car because hitchhiking really was just as dangerous as Namine had said and if he didn't watch out he'd end up dead in a ditch somewhere. But he couldn't quite bring himself to do that because he knew somehow, with a bone-deep certainty he didn't think he'd ever felt before, that he could trust Axel and was doing the right thing.

Maybe a combination of overwork and LA had finally got to him, but he was sure that, if he got out of the car, he'd regret it. Somehow, Axel was familiar and safe. He could at least stick around long enough to figure out how and why.

Axel was looking at him expectantly, the air between them charged with nervous energy, and Roxas thought of his New England childhood, the quiet peace of snow. He had nothing tying him to California and, meeting Axel's green-eyed gaze, he was thrilled by the realisation that he'd managed to find the one person who would say yes no matter where he wanted to go.

He smiled.

"You ever been to Boston?"


End file.
